


the way you make me feel

by caroes3725



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, POV Katara (Avatar), Romance, Sozin's Comet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caroes3725/pseuds/caroes3725
Summary: What she hated the most was that shedidn’thate him. The night before Sozin's Comet, Katara comes to terms with her growing affection for a certain Fire Nation prince.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 82





	the way you make me feel

**Author's Note:**

> I can never be short and sweet about these sorts of things, so of course this little idea has sprawled into two chapters. Hope y'all enjoy!

They set Appa down at nightfall the day before the comet—at the very western edge of the Earth Kingdom, the ocean stretching far into the horizon, with Azula at the end of it.

Katara felt a lot of things. It was a swirling cacophony of emotion, fear playing the highest note, exacerbated by the fact that they knew nothing of Aang’s whereabouts. She had hope, blind hope, maybe, that he’d come back and do what was needed, but it didn’t assuage her worry.

Appa had hardly hit the ground when Zuko hopped down from the saddle. She was beginning to think he was competing with her. She’d always been a bit of a taskmaster when it came to making camp (Toph never let her forget it), but it was only because the others got easily distracted by new surroundings, which was all fun and games until they were starving and dinner was still an hour away. So Katara was always first off Appa, first in the bags, first building the fire, cooking the rice, pitching the tent.

And yet with His Royal Highness around she was never first. He’d take the supplies with him on the way down while she tended to Appa, and when she turned everything was almost done. She told herself it was because he had an unfair advantage—starting a fire was a massive pain with spark rocks, or if her kindling was wet, and obviously Zuko made quick work of it.

Her emotions were a bit jumbled given they stood on the precipice of the end of the world—she assumed that’s why resentment was twisting in her gut watching him work this time. Always pushing his hair out of his face because it was impractically long, cutting root vegetables and jerky into chunks with precision, and she noticed a little tendon of muscle in his forearm—who had _visible_ forearm muscles? It seemed awfully vain and _silly_ for them to just be on display, and that wasn’t even the worst offense because he walked around shirtless like it was his spirit-forsaken right to be half-naked all the time.

“Would you stop it?” she snapped suddenly, through teeth she’d been gritting since they set down.

He paused and looked between her and his knife. “Am I—doing it wrong?”

“No,” she huffed, then stormed over to him and gathered up the pieces he’d set in a bowl and dumped them into the pot over the fire so she could do _something_. He leaned away from her.

“Why-,”

She threw her hands up exasperatedly and spun to him. “It’s just over, you know. It’s over and you can _stop it_.”

His brow arched in closer to his scar. “Stop what?”

She began counting on her fingers as if listing transgressions. “Stop with the stupid chores and the compliments and the niceness,” she said bitterly. “You’re on our side, you are safely ensconced, despite my _best_ efforts, you—you have-,”

“Katara-,”

She shoved the bowl back into his chest, and he grabbed it easily with one warm, large hand and she was _mad_ at him, so maybe it would be preferable if she wasn’t noticing such _stupid things_.

“You won, Fire Prince, alright?” she snapped, face pinched in a sour expression. “Congratulations!”

“I am not trying to _win_ ,” he replied incredulously. “Or manipulate you or—or anything!”

Katara gave a sharp scoff. “That would be a nice change, wouldn’t it?”

“What is your problem?” he demanded, jolting to his feet.

She carrolled close to him with a finger in his face, though not too close because he smelled like the fancy Fire Nation soap from his house at Ember Island.

“You do all these nice things for your own self-interest-”

He made an exasperated sound. “That’s not bad-,”

“I didn’t say it was bad!” she protested angrily, stamping her foot, and she’d fully lost it now based on the way his eyes widened.

She stood, seething gaze on him with balled fists, panting, trying to wrangle the complicated mess of emotions that had plagued her since the minute they stepped foot on Ember Island. Since that stupid _play_ , since Aang clung to her once again spewing romantic sentiment and she couldn’t be anything but confused. After a few seconds her breathing slowed and she was able to unclench her fingers and flex them at her sides. 

“I forgave you,” she said, leveling a flinty glare at him, meeting his golden eyes—who had _golden_ eyes anyway? “For the sake of our mission. Because I thought _objectivel_ y- _speaking_ you had changed enough to warrant letting you teach Aang firebending.”

He was searching her face, lips pursed, confused by her outburst. Concerned, and it only made her more irate because he shouldn’t—he wasn’t supposed to—

“Katara, if I’ve done anything to upset you, be honest with me,” he said. “But I thought we were past this.” 

This façade was grating her. Some fake, placid earnestness hiding the angry and insolent prince he used to be.

“No, _you_ be honest with _me_!” she snapped. “You tell me why you help me cook and do the laundry and pick up after Toph-,”

“I want to help!” he insisted. 

“Why?”

“It’s the right thing to do! You seemed like you needed it!”

“I am not a charity case!” she shot back. “I was handling everything just fine before you showed up!”

“I never said you weren’t, I was just-,”

“You were just trying to be _good_ Zuko,” she spat. “And he can back off because my life was all figured out before—before…”

Before he showed up in the Western Air Temple, and it was _oh so easy_ to despise him for what had happened. And she did, but like the conniving little Fire Nation jerk that he was, he weaseled his way into her thoughts, chipped away at her defenses.

 _Fine_ , she’d thought, after saving her brother, after Yon Rha, _I’ll forgive him. I will stop outright insulting him and threatening to murder him_. A fragile peace, a necessary one, but she was under no allusions that these nice acts were anything but him atoning. A tentative alliance that wouldn’t last past this terrible war.

But he was so _relentless_. His discipline in training was his discipline for chores, the stupid boy didn’t have any _hobbies_ , he just walked around doing nice things for her and _listening_ in the moments when she let her guard down to vent about all of it.

She looked at Zuko and felt the way Aang wanted her to feel about him. 

“I was supposed to be with Aang!” she shouted abruptly, the loudest yet.

He flinched, eyes wide at her, gaping like a fish. “I-I—I’m not trying to stop you,” he stammered.

Mortified at her outburst, at piercing with her angry words the veil they’d been dancing around, she bolted out of the camp into the trees. 

“Katara-,” he began desperately, then louder as she tore through the branches. “Katara!”

He was fast, of course. Athletic, strong— _shut up, Katara_. He could catch her if he wanted, and she heard his footfalls in the dirt behind her.

She slowed to a march with fists clenched again, and he spoke when he was close enough.

“Just wait, please-,”

She continued her retreat and flung her hand sharply back. “Leave me alone-,”

“You’re not imagining things!” he blurted out.

Katara stopped, panting, but didn’t turn. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked in a low voice. 

“I—I just didn’t want to get in the way,” he said hoarsely.

She pivoted on her heel, facing him with a scowl. “Well you _are_ in the way.”

He looked _genuinely_ remorseful; she wanted to throttle him. “I’m sorry.”

“This is why you’re in the way,” she hissed, gesturing to his well—face, which he didn’t seem to understand was a problem. 

“I’ll leave you alone, I’ll stop,” he insisted. 

“You _have_ a girlfriend,” she said, letting her hand flop to her side. “You called me a _little peasant_ -,”

“I broke up with Mai, and I called you that because I was terrified of you and I wanted to intimidate you.”

Katara snorted sharply. “How nice.”

“It’s not nice, that’s the point,” he said. “It was wrong, and I don’t—I am _trying_ not to treat people that way.”

Zuko’s eyes were downcast, fiddling with the edge of his tunic.

“Especially you,” he eventually muttered.

She would have inhaled sharply if it wasn’t so quiet, instead she twisted her mouth shut and clenched her jaw. She was angry at herself for feeling affection for someone only trying to do the right thing. If he was good to her, it was because he was a good person, not because she was special.

And why should she want to be? He was a _prince_ and it had been _weeks_.

But this was worse. ( _It wasn’t worse_.) She didn’t want to be liked by him. ( _She did_.) 

“Why?” she asked shakily. “When?”

An exasperated sound left him. “This is embarrassing.”

He went to stomp away and Katara tried to head him off. “Hey, I will scream at you again-,”

“What do you want, Katara?” he demanded, whirling around, too close, as she tried to pursue him.

“You can’t just storm off like that!”

“You did it first!”

She surged into his face, fists clenched. “I was _trying_ to _calm down_!”

“Oh well you seem _very_ calm now,” he said sarcastically.

“Answer my questions!” she ordered. 

Zuko threw his hand out. “You want me to sit here and tell you how much I like you?” he began angrily. “When you just finished telling me how mad it makes you? How I’m _getting in the way_?”

“You are getting in the way because _I_ like you too!” she snapped back. “You were supposed to be a—a necessary accessory to this mission and you are-,”

A frustrated sound left her and then she shoved him. He staggered back a few paces but it hadn’t been hard. She pursued, pushing on his stupid, firm chest as she said exactly what she wanted.

“You are kind and thoughtful-,”

“-and understanding-,”

“-a good listener a-and handsome. So _annoyingly_ -,”

One last shove for good measure.

“-handsome!”

Spirits, she’d lost it, she had so much energy and adrenaline spiraling out of her because they were probably going to _die_ and this didn’t matter anyway. He was stumbling backwards and tripped over a protruding root—a strangled yelp left him mid-air as he fell backwards onto his ass.

Her eyes widened in horror, though he didn’t seem hurt and just rubbed his back with a sheepish look. She slumped onto both knees on the ground next to him. “Spirits, Zuko, I’m…” She trailed off and sighed heavily. “I’m really sorry.”

His hair was hanging over his face as he looked down, hands on either side of him in the dirt. She sat quietly watching him, heart hammering in her chest. Eventually his eyes inched up, his lips pressed tight in a faint smile.

“Do I have to shout my compliments back at you?”

The tension flooded out of her, she wanted to give a great sob of relief, but instead reached out and thwacked him on the arm. He covered her hand before she could draw back. Not capturing her wrist— _saving her from the pirates_ —but a gentle squeeze that made her pause and her heart jump to her throat.

He was quiet for a moment. “You asked—why,” he said. “-and when.”

“Zuko…”

“You showed me great kindness, I think you know that,” he said, then flushed red. “And you’re beautiful, which you should probably know too.”

“Are you sure you’re not just falling for the only nice girl here since Suki is taken?” she asked, only managing to sound half-teasing.

He lifted his gaze to her, the intensity melting her anger. Her resolve. “No.”

She swallowed thickly and looked down. “Oh.”

They sat in silence, the forest still around them too, light quickly fading. _You just have a little crush, Katara_ , she thought. _He’s handsome, it’s only natural. But you’re destined to be with Aang._

A smaller thought, then— _even if you don’t want to be_.

Zuko dropped her hand and she sorely missed the feeling of his warm skin.

“Katara, truly, I would never want to stand in the way of what you want,” he said. “If I have made things complicated for you, I’m sorry.”

She clasped her hands together in her lap, legs folded under her and feet tingling as she held the position for too long. She should move, be comfortable, fling herself into his arms and—

“I should not have pushed you,” she said, clearing her throat.

His lip quirked up slightly. “It’s okay, I mean you aren’t even that strong-,”

“Hey!”

“-and I know it’s a strange time.”

Katara sighed and shook her head. “Strange,” she said. “I suppose that’s one way to describe the end of the world.”

“It’s not the end,” he replied. “You’re not going to die, and we will win this.”

She felt blood surging to her cheeks and was glad the trees cast a shadow over her. “I’m supposed to be the hopeful one.”

“You give me hope,” he said. “You give everyone what they need. You…ground us all, and I’m so grateful for it.”

She liked the _hello, Zuko here_ version of the Fire Prince much better, this earnest one gushing compliments was making her throat tight.

“I was so happy when you asked me to come with you,” she said. “Maybe that’s silly. I am scared, I just feel better being at your side.”

He hesitantly reached out and touched the back of her hand. She’d perched them at the ends of her knees hoping he might.

“I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

Katara lifted her head to smile at him, but realized how dark it was now. She could only see a slight curve in his lip, the square line of his jaw.

“We should get back,” she said, craning her neck to survey the sky past the tall trees.

Zuko nodded his assent and climbed to his feet, spry enough to offer her a hand, which she accepted despite her pulse thrumming in response.

They navigated the darkness back to their abandoned camp, where Appa remained oblivious, munching on a nearby bush. They ate in silence, her only entertainment watching him standing with his little bowl of food trying to surreptitiously gauge how close to her he should sit. He settled for far too appropriate of a distance, but she could at least admire his unfairly handsome features in the firelight. 

Dinner was finished quickly, a little uneasily. She’d spoken with suddenness to him because she hated to die with the truth trapped in her chest, but laying between them now, she didn’t know what it meant. Maybe it was enough that he knew how she felt because anything more just sent Iroh’s words about Zuko being _Fire Lord_ rattling around her head. 

“I’m not sure we need tents when we have Appa,” she remarked when she was finished with her food—utter mush since they’d let it boil far too long. “We’ll have to be up early.”

“I won't sleep much anyway,” he said and with one sweep of his hand extinguished the wilting flames from the fire, plunging them into darkness. Her eyes adjusted quickly, tracing the outline of his robes in the silver light.

She walked over to Appa and gave him a scratch on the head before nestling into the downy fur on his tail. Zuko made himself busy cleaning things that were already tidy before she heard his boots crunching in the dirt. She kept her eyes closed and tried to suppress a smile at what she assumed was his awkward waffling.

“Katara,” he whispered. “Are you—is it alright if I…”

She cracked one eye open. “I just expended a tremendous amount of energy telling you that I like you, I think it’s safe to say I’m okay if you lay down within three feet of me.”

“Right,” he said sheepishly, and then she felt Appa’s tail shift slightly as he settled down.

Katara opened her eyes, and spotting his back and mop of dark hair, resisted rolling her eyes.

“Zuko.”

He rolled over to face her, his good cheek pillowed on his arm. To her surprise, he spoke before she could. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She saw the white of his eyes as they flicked sideways, skirting from her gaze.

“Do you want to be with Aang?”

Katara was quiet for a moment—a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. She did _want_ to like Aang. He was kind, generous, a steadfast friend, and when she thought of the end of the war, she had promised herself she’d give things a real chance. Insisted, when her doubts flared, that when it was over, she would be unencumbered, able to embrace this destined romance fully. 

And yet this destiny felt foisted upon her, so how could she really want that?

Katara burrowed deeper into Appa’s fur, shoulders bowed. “Not really,” she finally said in a faint whisper, then her eyes nervously rose to his. “I tried really hard to tell myself I did, but it only made me confused.”

“I’m sorry if I made things worse,” he replied just as quietly.

He shouldn’t feel bad, but oh, he had made it unbearable. Just on the cusp of the comet, she came to the dreadful realization that she did want _Zuko_ —with such aching clarity her muddled relationship with Aang felt like an impossibility. She wanted to be held by him, to kiss him, but the other things were worse—craving his company the most out of the others, finally pouring out her fears and anxieties that she’d kept inside for Aang’s sake, listening with a breaking heart to all that had happened to him and thinking how strong and kind he was. The only way she could keep her head above water was telling herself this was merely part of his generic _goodness_ and that he had no special devotion to her. 

Pretty things began appearing for her, that’s when the problem really started. She suspected Aang, but they materialized in places he never really went. In the laundry that Zuko dried for her, the high cabinet of the kitchen that only he could reach, among the rows and rows of books in the private office she’d only ever seen him peruse. Flowers, mostly, the delicate purple-blue ones that grew on the grassy cliff sides above the house, where she’d sit sometimes watching dragonfly hummingbirds flit around. Other times she found blush pink shells, completely intact, which she knew were rare finds having walked the tightly-packed sand on the beach herself.

The day before they departed in search of Aang, frantically packing their things after his disappearance, she found him out. He’d been hauling the bags on top of Appa, she told him she needed blank parchment, and he directed her to his room.

She was stupid, didn’t look in the desk, rushed to his bedside table after noting he’d neatly made the bed, and yanked open the drawer. There was, coincidentally, blank parchment, but also shells clinking in empty crevices and flowers of all sorts scattered around, his personal repository. She’d snapped the drawer shut with tremendous force and fled the room.

That had started the spiral, exasperated by June and her needling about _girlfriends_ , culminating in Katara _shouting_ at Zuko about how much she liked him. And how the prospect of her own happiness was ruining the picture of her life.

She soothed her hand down Appa’s fur, coarse and fluffy. “It’s not your fault, really,” she said to him eventually. “I was doubtful even when you were just-,” She grinned. “-a jerk with a bad ponytail.”

Zuko used to profusely apologize upon any mention of his past behavior until she chastised him for it, and he looked so soft and grateful she’d excused herself to make everyone watermelon juice. Now he merely gave a breathless chuckle, returning her smile.

“That’s a surprise, I used to get all kinds of girls with that hairstyle.”

Katara laughed, such a shrill sound in their whispered conversation she covered her mouth. His eyes brightened before she spoke.

“You did not,” she said.

“I did not,” he admitted. “I, uh, think even with the best hair I’m a little hapless at all that.”

“You’re not hapless,” she said, then more softly, “I know you left all those things for me.”

He swallowed and dropped his eyes, no doubt blushing furiously. “It was silly.”

“It was sweet,” she said, then wiggled her hand out from under her cheek. “Plus you rather do have the best hair.”

She was reaching out as she spoke, longing to drag her hand through the dark silken strands across his forehead, but hesitated, fingers outstretched.

“Can I…?”

He nodded faintly, eyes a little wide, before she closed the distance, fingertips just glancing the hair hanging over his scar. Her hand was trembling, dropped a little lower, but she stopped with an entreating look.

“It’s—it’s alright,” he whispered and she tenderly touch his scar just under his eye. She remembered the feel of it, rough and warm, his skin was almost feverish.

“Zuko, you’re…” She cupped the side of his face, tracing the line of the scar with her thumb. “You’re so very good, you know.” 

The pale skin on his throat tightened as he swallowed. He was struggling for words and tipped his face down.

“Could I scoot closer?” he asked.

Her breath caught at the prospect and she hoped he didn't notice. “Please.”

He slid nearer with relative ease, certainly not _too_ close, but she could see his amber eyes more clearly in the moonlight, pale, glowing skin under his red and puckered scar.

“You should rest,” he said.

She desperately wanted to kiss him. She’d hardly done it. Just with Jet, and then was otherwise only accosted with wooden ones from Aang. At the end of the world, what difference would it make?

Katara had retracted her hand from his face back against her chest, absently carding through Appa’s fur. “Zuko, I’m glad we talked about this. I’m sorry how I said it, I just wanted you to know.”

“This isn’t what I expected either,” he said. “Least of all that you might reciprocate after everything I’ve done. I never meant to burden you with it.”

“It’s not a burden,” she said. “If I was angry, it was only because I was clinging to this idea I had for my life after the war, with Aang. And you slipped right into the cracks and-,” She stopped seeing the concerned crease in his brow. “Not in a _bad_ way,” she insisted. “I was only thinking about what Aang wanted because I was ambivalent, but you...um, make me happy.”

Zuko hesitated, before his hand stretched out to tuck some errant strands of hair behind her ear.

“I suppose there will be more to say,” he murmured, then cleared his throat. “After.”

Sometimes she didn’t dare think of that, lest she jinx any chance of them, the world, making it out of Ozai’s clutches unscathed.

She gave a weak smile. “No use worrying about it now, I guess.”

An intensity flashed in his eyes, and he leaned closer. “My sister is not going to hurt you, I swear it.”

She was not surprised at his grandiose, heroic sentiment. “Azula is not going to hurt you, either, Zuko. Not on my watch.”

He had let his hand linger and retracted it, though somehow they’d both scooted fractionally closer, like planets in orbit. 

“Thank you,” he said. “But I shouldn’t keep you awake any longer.”

She knew he was right, but she would miss being this close to him in the morning and be sapped of courage. She rather suddenly lurched forward, just a few inches, pressing her lips into his cheek, on his mottled scar and then a little lower.

Her face was probably entirely crimson when she pulled back. “Goodnight, Zuko.”

He seemed to choking on his words a little. “Uh, yes—goodnight.”

Because her boldness had apparently not faded entirely, she took his hand and squeezed it tight between them until she feel asleep for a few restless hours before the end of the world.


End file.
